Oh Handcannon, oh phantom bloom
My bullets lost in to the gloom
E'er I labor to aim for face
E'er my third round lost to space
Such careful placement
So firm of hand
Yet only one of three doth land
In CQB I try and fail
Like Daniel-San driving the nail
In an older, wilder time
The Handcannon was thought divine
But as we end our second year in space
This Smith and Wesson has no place.
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I like Doritos